Sunday Scribbles - Untitled

my love is nimble

quick on its feet

for hide and go seek;

a child of science

shrinks down smiling

hides in cabinets

springs forth with soft laughter

to take up all the space in the room

solid

or melts to liquid, seeping into cracks

rises up gaseous

settles in a dew all around

takes on life again but

curls up in your lap to sleep and 

asks for nothing save the sound of us talking

requires no consistent shape

known only for the phosphorescent tail that trails behind it

unless otherwise noted, all poetry copyright Ryann Ferguson

I'm Not Asleep, I'm Just Resting My Eyes

Annnnnd that's exactly what I'm doing today. As you may know, I don't take vacations from this blog. Not when I'm on a plane. Or in the wilderness. Not when I'm moving. Even-- or perhaps especially-- when I'm, ya know, on vacation. 

I'm not on vacation here in New York. Actually, I am on a massive deadline for Nicholas & Alexandra. But unless all my belongings were stolen, say, in Lisbon, Portugal (or that one scary minute [four hours] this weekend, when I was locked out of Peter Sheik's house with no shoes on and no phone and no recourse for rescue. And perhaps my first fatalistic thought was... wow, what if I have to sit in this hallway for the next 36 hours until Peter and Sarah come home and let me back in? At least I have my Chinese takeout. And then my next traumatic thought was, Hey! This isn't what I ordered! Okay, okay, but you know what? One of my very very next initial traumatic thoughts was... EFF!  That's like two days with no blog! I digress.) 

My point is... I got so much done yesterday on the show without having to divide my loyalties (I preblogged. Actually, I'm preblogging now....) that I'm going to try to snowball  that momentum without spending quite as much time on the old blog today. It's not a vacation. I'm here. Talk to me. But let's whisper. I'm not asleep. We're just resting. It's okay for you to rest too. We're in a hammock. We have margaritas. Maybe hump day is a good time to catch up on posts you've missed. Now is as good a time as any, I suppose,  to quote one of my personal fictitious heroes, Ferris Bueller, when he said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and take a look around once in a while, you could miss it." So, even though I'm using this time to work more (typical NYC Ryann) let's just rest.

Drunk Texts From Famous (hermit) Writers

Basically, I can relate to this. You went out? Check out all of the funnies from Jessie Gaynor via The Paris Review. 


What can I say about these days? That I am both listless and restless. That I am losing an ongoing argument with the unfocused disquiet of my mind. I pace. I run. I do cardio. I am fighting it out to the tune of extremely emotional, mathematically formulaic pop music. It's a shadow box. I cannot burn off the energy I have and I cannot focus it into anything productive for longer than... say, 15 minutes?  


Are our only choices burn out or boredom? Why is balance so elusive? Years of practicing Buddhism and still the slightest nudge can knock it all off the shelf. All of my usual tricks are getting a system override. I don't want to do any of them. My own inner life is lacking inspiration. And momentum. I want to be in it. I want to send my energy in a direction away from myself. And preferably, without any digital or electronic aid. 


I think Emily would agree. And I'd like to think that if Emily Dickinson were alive today, she'd probably also get real crazy at  Broadway Bares. Let's live in our bodies and not our obnoxious minds. At the very least, I think she'd agree my pal Rachel Potter sang her face off on "We Found Love." 

Heads Are Overrated - Friday Links

Not sorry to see this week go. It was a bit tedious. Anxiety and bureaucracy-filled. And way way way too much obsessive thinking.  I wouldn't have minded losing my head, actually. At the very least, taking it off and setting it aside for a while. Letting it air out. 


On the up side, this weekend is Father's Day! My favorite holiday. If you've never heard me wax on about my spectacular dad, you don't know me very well. Or at all. More on him Sunday. But for now, here are the things that kept me afloat during the WAY too much time I spent on the internet this week. 


-The hipsters of Game of Thrones. You know I love a good hipster meme. 
- NPR's 25 favorite albums of the year so far.
- Wait, Justin Timberlake is an interior decorator now?
- I'm sorry, but I should be writing these. Don't even get me started on the errors. 
- Speaking of which, I want. Did I already post this? Well I still want it.
- Would sell a kidney to go to Mykonos right now
- The UK is obsessed with specialists. But some of us are good at everything. Just sayin. 
- I want these. 
- Boom. 
- The best news ever: fab friend/phenom talent/Ferg&Jamail collaborator Jeremy Jordan joins SMASH Season 2 as series regular. Someone over there is making excellent choices. 

London Coffee Festival

On a rainy Sunday, three former Rice Owls in London and Cambridge Alum from Bosnia headed out to the Old Truman Brewery for the London Coffee Festival. It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday that felt like a day in Seattle. With its odd mix of industry trade show and caffeine addicts paradise, we sampled all kinds of coffee, tea, and coffee substitutes as well as pre-packaged breakfasts, pastries, macaroons, and various other foodstuffs you might encounter in a cafe. 


My favorites were an amaretto tea from new company Tea Nation and a pear liqueur for black coffee that was sooo much better than I expected (if not actually alcoholic). We need get some coffee booze though at the end of our wandering when we sat down in a mock Hyde Park for some acoustic music and espresso martinis. 


I had a pretty hardcore caffeine crash later that afternoon, but it was totally worth it. Coffee is beautiful. NYC, you should take a lesson. Check here for the full list of exhibitors. 

The Right & The Wrong Kind of Drama

At some point last year, one of my masters professors said something so startlingly accurate about the writing process that it actually knocked the wind out of me. And for the first time, I began to see a big picture about my real life relationships in the mix with the made-up relationships I write about all day long. 


She said this: "Have you noticed... that when the work isn't going well.... when there isn't the right kind of drama on the page...that you create the wrong kind of drama off the page?"


And, obviously, my answer was YES. 


When I am cranking out the kind of material I want, when that shit is flowing like I like, I do not start shit in my own life. When things are not going well at my desk (probably because I am eternally uncomfortable mediocrity. Also with prolonged periods of uncertainty) I make trouble in other areas of my life. If things are going well, I question them and undo a good thing. If something is on the edge, I just go ahead and push it over. 


This is often why when I'm really on deadline, I go of the grid and sequester myself. I try to cut off contact with my real life so I don't ruin it.  


But then... I can't do that forever, right? I bet my hypothetical future children (not to mention the hypothetical future child services) would not appreciate my emotional or physical disappearance for three weeks. (or maybe more!) What to do!? Does anyone have the answers to these questions? Is there any answer that's right for more than the person who's figured it out for his or herself. Probably not. But we keep on asking. 

Hanging onto Autumn - Happy Thanksgiving

Maybe it's the onset of winter that has caused my life shake-up kind of frenzy. Or maybe it's the total lack of love I feel from a University I once cherished, but who now, has been the cause of my starvation for the last 26 days (What do I pay 12,200 pounds for again?) So maybe I'm just starving and not thinking rationally. But I've been in the kind of mood I get in when my friends say, "Uh oh, Ryann is about to move to another country." 


I don't know that I'm going to take it that far. But I'm feeling under-stimulated lately so that might be why I just applied to about 7 theatre jobs in London last night. I mean, I was awesome when I was slammed, right? I can do a phd long-distance from London and work full time and write musicals, right?


I think deep down, I always knew I'd want a faster-paced lifestyle back at some point. But I suppose I'd like to think the hope of balance is actually available to me in other places in a way that it simply wasn't in NYC. 


Who knows. I'm sure something interesting will happen. It always does. In the meantime, I'll be spending this Thanksgiving preparing for the Thanksgiving I'll be cooking (when my DAD! arrives) with 10 of my closest friendsfamily this Sunday. So far, St A still hasn't actually given me my loan money so that I can purchase the food, but whattheheck. I never died from starvation in NYC, so I don't plan to start now. 


I'm going to go clean, write (real writing & perhaps some more angry emails to the St Andrews proctor) and get the most out this last unseasonably warm Autumn weather. I'm hanging on to it. Just like this tree. 

photo by David Filipiak

Sleep & Poetry

I have very few beefs with my life. It's pretty perfect. The only thing that sometimes impedes my ability to enjoy it is how frequently I'm unable to sleep. So much of my writing life is about sleep and not sleep. The difference between working insomnia and restless insomnia. Feeling alert or feeling dull based on how rested I feel. 

Since I got back from France, I've found it hard to really feel like I got a good night's sleep. It may or may not be because of my single bed. Either way, I'm definitely a bed connoisseur. I spend a lot of time thinking about beds. I'm always checking out bedding. And even though my bed might be a joke, my bedding is NO JOKE, sleeping on love letters (See below). 

Last night, man, I really slept. It was great. Even in my little ol' bed. So I thought I'd go through my big folder of design and pull out all the beautiful beds to give thanks for that dreamy, fluffy place where creativity goes to hibernate and rejuvenate. 

I need all the rest I can get. This Spring is insane. Don't forget! VOTE! St Andrews is THIS Saturday and Sunday! Tix are going fast, so make sure you get yours now!